Promised On Stars
by lesqui
Summary: He made a promise, to her and to the Army, and he could only keep it to one of them. She made a promise, to him, because he promised her.
1. Rexster

_It's 1 a.m., and instead of sleeping I am listening to the Dr. Who TV show soundtrack and typing FF._

 _This is inspired by another one-shot I did fairly recently, where Spinner talks about promises and flying._

 _May or may not add a second little snippet to this. Not sure yet._

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

 **Promised On Stars**

 _You promised._

The words had been a whisper on her lips, a breath of air that brushed his cheek as he leaned down to listen.

Rex closed his eyes, squeezing them as tightly shut as he could. Maybe, maybe if he thought hard enough, if he blinked long enough, maybe it wouldn't be real, maybe it wouldn't have happened. Maybe, just maybe, he'd open his eyes and she'd be there, leaning against the doorframe of his office, bright smile on her face, claiming this was all a horrible prank gone wrong. He opened his eyes, knowing that it wasn't a prank, that it was real, that she was really gone.

 _She's really gone._

Something formed in his throat, stung behind his eyes, and an odd, gasping sound choked its way out of him. He had _promised._ Promised her his life, his loyalty, his faith. Promised her with useful information and respectful advice. Promised her with support when she needed it, a shoulder to cry on when she hurt, a person to come to when she needed answers.

And the one time she'd needed it the most, she'd needed the loyalty and the support and the person, the one time, he wasn't there to provide it. And then he'd had to hunt her down. He'd had to chase her, pursue her, track her, her the prey, him the predator. He'd had to pretend, in front of his superiors, that he hadn't made that promise.

He'd seen her jump. He'd run up beside General Skywalker and watched her jump from the sewer pipe, leaping and hanging, suspended in midair for a moment, and he thought that she was beautiful in that moment. She looked as if she were ready to fly, to escape, and he'd _wanted_ her to. He had seen her fly, dancing and twirling with the lightsabers, green and yellow-green, taking out masses of droids, protecting the men, _her_ men.

They'd caught her, of course, in that warehouse with the nanodroids. Then there'd been her trial. Rex had wanted to go, spoken to General Skywalker about it. The general had shaken his head. "You can't, Rex. I'm sorry." And Rex knew that was another failure to add to the list, because part of that promise had been to stand behind her, hold her up, literally or figuratively, and he wouldn't be able to this time, when she needed the most holding.

She was found not-guilty, and though no one in Torrent was surprised, everyone was relieved. The commander, _their_ commander, she'd never turn traitor, and Rex wanted to tell her, wanted to assure her that he'd tried, he'd tried to keep his promise, he'd done his best.

He heard she was going to the Temple, and hurried over, waiting at the stairs, not daring to wait for her in the building itself. She had come down the steps, face tired, eyes sad and old beyond her years, but her steps were determined. Rex moved, standing where he knew she would see him. And she did see him, a small smile curling on her lips, a smile that didn't reach those sad eyes, and he wondered if he'd been able to keep that promise, would her eyes smile with her mouth.

"Hi, Rexster."

The words, soft and quiet, were what alerted him to the fact that something was _wrong._ He moved a step closer, close enough to feel the heat from her body, close enough to breathe in her scent, but not touching. Never touching.

"Hey, kid."

He hadn't called her that for a long time, weeks, months, maybe even a year. She wasn't a kid anymore. She had grown, and he knew that and saw that, but something in him, something coiling in his stomach and clenching around his heart, made the word slip out.

They stood in silence, waiting, watching, listening. Finally, she spoke, blue eyes, those wonderful blue eyes that had sparkled with laughter, glowed with ferocity, shone with _love,_ they stared at some distant point over his shoulder, and he wondered what had gone so terribly wrong that she wouldn't even look at him.

"I'm leaving, Rex."

Three words. Three words and his world shattered.

"Leaving where, commander?"

She met his gaze, if only for an instant. That sadness, the old age, behind them stars glittered, the stars she had seen and traveled to and past, the stars they had talked about during late-night meetings on the _Resolute,_ just the two of them, the stars he had made his promise on.

"The Order. I'm no longer a Jedi, and no longer a military officer in the Republic Army."

Shattered, again. Pieces and shards that cut into his heart and his mind, and caused an odd buzzing sound to fill his head. He had opened his mouth to say something. He remembered parting his lips, trying to get the words out, but she cupped his cheek, gently closing his mouth, thumb tracing along his cheekbone.

"You promised, Rex."

And he bowed his head into her touch, because he had. He had promised. He had promised her his life, loyalty, and faith. He had made her that promise on the blood of battle, the bodies of their men. He had made that promise on the stars in her eyes, on the fire in her touch.

But he had made another promise, too. One to the Army, one to his brothers. One that, no matter that it shattered his world, no matter that it cut his heart, one that was infinitely more important. More important because she reminded him, more important because she said so.

She leaned up and he leaned down and they met somewhere in the middle, a kiss that was more a dream than anything else, a dream of possibilities that would never be, could never be, and then she stepped back and he straightened up, and she gave him a smile that lit the stars in her eyes, that made them _burn_ so bright he was momentarily blinded.

 _You promised._

In the privacy of his office, the door closed, light off, he felt the tears, cold on his cheeks, bitter in his mouth.

 _I did, Commander. I'll take care of them for you._


	2. Kid

**Promised On Stars**

 _You promised._

The words had been spoken, whispered, hummed in the middle of a moment of emotions, of feelings and thoughts and memories. They had been an anchor, reminding her what was real and what was want and what was smart and what was hope.

Ahsoka closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, remembering that day and the things she said and the things he said, and all the things they might have said but didn't.

Leaving, it had been the best option for her, the smartest, the safest. And for a moment, more than fleeting but less than lasting, she was going to ask him to come with her. The words had been there, on her tongue, on her lips. They had been there, ready to be spoken, but then she the moment passed and she remembered that leaving was safest for her.

It was the most dangerous thing for him.

He had a moment, too. She could sense it, sense the intention and the thought, and so she whispered the words, breathed them against his skin, hoping he would hear her near inaudible words, knowing he would understand which promise she referenced.

He'd called her kid. He hadn't done that, not for months. She wasn't a kid anymore, not really. She had seen too much, done too much to be a kid. But she was still older than him. She was older than him, and yet— _yet he was the adult_.

He had been patient with her questions; not always kind, but always, always patient. He had laughed with her; even if he was having a bad day, even if he didn't want to, he would, because sometimes she needed his laughter more than she needed her own. He had watched over her, covered her, protected her.

He had given her his promise.

It had taken a while for her to understand, and then she didn't quite grasp the meaning behind it. She knew it was important—oh, _Force,_ was it important—but she didn't know why and she didn't know how. But she'd started to recognize it, recognize when he was acting on his promise, when he was adding a new bit.

The words were never spoken, not out loud, not directly. It was said with smiles and laughter and jokes, in pain and tears and blood. It was said with soft words, soft corrections, and harsh words, harsh reprimands. It was him to her, always him to her. And it was important and meaningful and something that was beyond her comprehension because she was a Jedi, and Jedi didn't have attachments.

Jedi didn't have promises to give.

Jedi didn't have promises to receive.

But he'd given. He'd given so much of himself to her, more than she had ever realized, until that moment, at the base of the Temple steps. Until she looked in his eyes, eyes that were sometimes an angry brown, sometimes a smiling amber, and sometimes honey. She looked, and she saw. She saw the brown and the amber and the honey, and beyond that she saw stars.

Stars full of memories, stars full of dreams. Stars of knowledge and wisdom and things she would never understand, because she was a Jedi and he was a clone, and clones had stars of promises, and Jedi never did.

"Hi, Rexster."

She hadn't called him that in about as long as he'd called her 'kid.' But his eyes brightened, the stars glowed, and she suddenly regretted not using the nickname more often. And he'd responded with 'kid,' and her stomach clenched, heart clenched, because no one could put any more _warmth_ in those three letters than he did.

She couldn't look at him, not as she told him the three words that crushed her heart. She couldn't look at him, she didn't have to. His reaction was as clear through the Force as it would've been through her own eyes. It was clear and strong, and he remained soft and gentle, and all of it together made her eyes burn with a pain she wouldn't let him see.

That was when she sensed his intention, saw his mouth open, saw the stars brighten and fade all at the same time. She put her hand to his cheek. Her fingers were cold and his skin was hot, and she wondered if she had touched him more, if it would make this better or worse.

She closed his mouth, brushed her fingers along his face. "You promised, Rex."

Because he had to remember. He had to remember that he had made the same promise to two entirely different things. And a promise like that can only be kept to one.

He bowed his head and fire burned her suddenly, scorching through her veins down to her toes. She stretched up and he bent down and she wasn't sure who started it, but it was world-shattering. She could _see_ him, more clearly, more defined than she ever had before.

He had opened himself up to her, allowing her access to every single part of him, and in that instant, the instant of more dreams than reality, she saw the burning star in him, in his heart and his mind and his soul that was his promise.

And she saw the love he kept locked away in the darkest parts of him, a love he wouldn't ever acknowledge because he was a clone and she was a Jedi, and clones had promises and Jedi didn't.

And then she stepped back and so did he and she smiled because it was the last gift she could think of giving him.

She had turned and walked one way, and he had turned and walked the other, and she hadn't seen him since. She had built a new life for herself, one where she could live and love, but she didn't give up his promise. She kept it tucked away in her heart and her mind, his promise and his love and all the hopes he had given her.

 _You promised._

He had, but she had, too. She had learned, learned how to promise, and she had made him one. One he wouldn't ever know, but one all the same.

One that she hoped would help him, because he had made the same promise to the Army, and you could only keep that promise to one.

 _I did, Captain. I'll take care of them for you._

* * *

 _Maybe there'll be a part three; who knows? I certainly don't._

 _Read, review. Enjoy!_

 _(Or cry a little. That's what I did while writing this.)_


	3. Commander

**Promised On Stars**

 _You promised._

Rex heard her voice sometimes, through the sounds, through the noise, through the dark. It always came when he was thinking, thinking dangerous thoughts that could cause a lot of damage. Her voice would come, her words, the soft whisper of reminder, and he would clench his hands into fists because he had promised, and she had reminded.

The new Five-Oh-First stood tall and proud. Vader's Fist, they were. Oh, and what a terrible fist, smashing and breaking and burning, and Rex saw, he stood and watched as that fist destroyed his men, one-by-one, and the pieces of his shattered heart scattered further from each other with each one of his men that was taken from him.

They lived, they all lived, but not really. They weren't men, and they weren't _his_ men. His men, the one's he had promised, promised before he ever met that bright-eyed Padawan, promised before he'd ever known the possibility of love and the power of smiles. Promised before he'd known just how dangerous the stars were.

"Commander."

He'd gone up in rank. He'd been a good soldier, a good part of the Fist, and he'd gone up in rank. He was commander, Commander Rex, because he wasn't able to keep his promise, because he stood by and watched as his men were destroyed.

Rex looked up into the eyes of an old friend. Kix, ever faithful, ever loyal, stood in the doorway. Kix wasn't destroyed, maybe the only one who wasn't, and Rex wondered how long that would last.

"Medic."

The name, Kix's name, it was on his tongue, burned the tip of it, but names weren't allowed. Names and men, they were destroyed. Names and men and promises. The stars didn't burn nearly as bright as they used to.

"There's an issue near the cells, sir."

Rex stood. An issue near the cells; there was always an issue near the cells, or in the cells. The Stormtroopers weren't his men, didn't behave like his men, didn't think like his men, didn't agree with his men, so there was always an issue. An issue of man versus fist, and every time, the stars got a bit dimmer.

With a tired sigh, because he was so, so tired, started towards the cells. An issue. He could deal with an issue, at the same time he couldn't, and after it was taken care of maybe he'd find that old bottle of liquor hidden under his desk and count how many swigs it took until the stars went out completely.

Kix led the way, moving quickly, hurriedly, with purpose, and Rex moved with him, because stopping an issue was much more appealing than being a fist. Because he had promised her he'd take care of the men, and maybe he couldn't stop them from being destroyed, but he could stop them from destroying themselves.

Except.

Except when they got near the cells, there wasn't an issue, and when they got to the cells, there wasn't an issue, and Rex turned to Kix, and Kix turned to Rex, and suddenly, for a moment, it wasn't Kix, but it was her.

And the stars reappeared, bright and blinding and beautiful.

"I'm not sorry for what I'm about to do, sir."

Rex heard him, felt him, saw him, but he didn't fight him. Because Kix was Kix, and in that moment Kix was her, and if the stars were there then maybe things would be not so bad. He could feel it, when he started losing consciousness, when Kix threw him over one shoulder and started moving.

He woke up in a strange place, with strange walls and strange lights. But the sound, the movement, it was familiar. The familiarity of a ship, a ship moving, moving through hyperspace, through the stars.

Soft fingers brushed his forehead. Soft and gentle, the touch of a brother, the touch of Kix. "Are you okay, commander?"

Rex blinked blurrily up at the medic, his old friend. "What happened?" And the name burned the tip of his tongue, almost slipped out, but he didn't let it, because maybe he had it wrong, and maybe they weren't as safe as he was thinking.

"I drugged you."

And Rex had to smile, because Kix was Kix, and Kix was blunt and to the point at the same time he was gentle. "Yes, I know. Why?"

Kix shrugged a shoulder, and gave Rex a considering look, one that reminded him of her, and stars, familiar stars, sparked in the medic's weary eyes. "I didn't think you'd come quietly otherwise, sir."

 _Come where_ , he almost asked, but he didn't. He sat up instead, and looked around. Cots were laid out on either side of them, the cots used in the prisons, and on each one lay a brother, one of his men, the men of the Five-Oh-First, the men the Fist had destroyed, and Rex looked back at Kix.

"Are we under arrest?"

And for the first time in a long time, Rex heard the laughter of one of his men, honest laughter, good laughter, and stars in Kix's eyes flared with the laughter, driving away some of the darkness. "Look again, commander."

Rex did. He looked, really looked, looked long and hard, because it was prison cots, but it wasn't a prison ship. They were brothers, brothers who had dangerous thoughts like he did, but they weren't traitors. And suddenly it made sense, and Rex looked at Kix and knew why he hadn't been destroyed.

"How'd you manage it?"

Kix shrugged a shoulder, a modest shrug with a modest smile, but the stars, oh they sparkled in his amber eyes, and Rex saw an echo of what she had left behind as an imprint on his men. "No one pays attention to the medics, sir. We're just there to slap on bacta patches."

An answer that wasn't an answer, and Rex was okay with that. Words that weren't spoken couldn't condemn men who weren't there.

He lay back down, thinking, remembering, allowing those dangerous thoughts to finally move from the shadows of his mind, to come out of hiding, and he felt better than he had in a long, long while.

"Why, Kix?"

The name, it slipped out this time, but that was okay. They were safe, and Kix smiled a full smile to go with his stars.

"You promised her, commander. I did, too."

* * *

 _Yah? Nah? Should I keep going? Should I do a part four?_

 _Idk, man. This was originally meant to be a one-shot. And now it's gotten to this._

 _Maybe I'll do a part four, just to even it out. Who know? I certainly don't._

 _Read, review._

 _Kisses!_


	4. Ma'am

_I have taken creative liberty in this next little snippet meaning Fives is very much not dead :)_

* * *

 **Promised On Stars**

 _You promised._

The words echoed in her mind, in her dreams, a reminder to what she was doing and why.

It was late, beyond second moonhigh when she felt it, the tickle against her consciousness that indicated movement in her small home. Wearily, she stood, padding silently out of her room into the main part of the abode. It was Fives, the sturdy ARC who had given her so many things to laugh about. He stood in front of her waist-high conservator, studying the contents within.

"What are you doing here, sir?"

He didn't move, but his head tilted in her direction, a small greeting of respect and acknowledgment. "Ma'am."

He straightened up and Ahsoka stepped back, waiting. "Routine inspection, ma'am. Got some new we may have visitors soon. Everything has to be up to par."

The words, the message, coded and eloquent, and Ahsoka allowed a small smile to curl on her lips. She didn't smile much, not anymore, but when she did it was around Fives, because of him. They had to careful, always, because people watched and listened and liked to talk, and while the Republic might not have operated based solely on gossip, the Empire seemed to, and they couldn't risk it.

"Do you know how many, inspector?"

Fives moved around the small home, running his fingers over wood structures and clay walls, rubbing woven wool and nerf leather, and she read his movements, read his fingers, gathering her information from all the words he couldn't say.

"A decent amount."

 _A decent amount._ That was exciting and exhilarating and terrifying, and she closed her eyes and took a breath, aware that Fives was watching her, even if his back was turned, even if he wasn't. He was watching her because he knew, knew of her promise to _him,_ knew of their farewell.

He knew of the kiss and of the stars, because he had done his duty as a soldier, as _her_ soldier, and taken care of her. He'd made her tell him everything after they heard about Order 66, made her cry and scream, and he'd held her even as she writhed and clawed, he'd held her until she wasn't screaming, until she was just crying. He'd _made_ her continue on, made her heal, and he made her build this small house which had become their base of operations.

And even if he knew everything of her, she knew almost nothing about him, but that was okay, because he had opened his mind to her, much like _he_ had on the Temple steps that day all those years ago. Fives had opened his mind, and though his promise had been made to Echo, though he couldn't offer it to her, he still supported her and loved her in that very ARC-trooper way, and she reciprocated it in her own way, her almost-Jedi-but-no-longer way, and they made an odd team, a _good_ team.

"Any news about Lord Vader, sir?"

Because they had to appear adequately scared of the Empire. Scared and docile and compliant, even though he was an ARC, and she a lost Jedi, and both deserters from their respective armies, and both entirely dangerous in their own way to an Empire that tried to smother them in their sleep.

"Nothing out of the ordinary, ma'am, though I've heard he's getting new troops added to his Fist."

So they'd lost troops then, enough for the movements of the replacements to be noticed. That could be good, or that could be bad, and thinking about either for too long was dangerous, so she simply didn't.

"Is there anything else you need to look at?"

 _Anything else you need to tell me? Anymore news to share?_ Fives didn't answer right away, not for many long moments, wandering around the small room, peering into her personal bedroom and the refresher that was barely big enough to hold a decent sized shower.

"I believe that the Fist lost one of their commanders and medics."

And Ahsoka stopped breathing for a moment, a moment of powerful memories and blinding smiles, and then she swallowed hard and sucked in a soft breath. Fives knew the affect his words had on her, of course he knew, even if he was across the room, beside the door while she stood in the protective shadows of her bedroom. A small smile curled on his lips, because he hadn't smiled much either, not since Echo's death, and when he did they were as small as hers, and just as roguish as ever.

He tipped his head slightly. "Have a good night, ma'am."

She sank to the floor, his words reeling through her mind, because there had been a deeper message hidden, one she should be able to decipher and wasn't able.

And then she was, and she did, and her heart stopped along with her breathing and she jumped up and hurried around her house, laying out blankets and pillows for all the men Fives had said were coming, pulling out food and preparing it because, even years and years later, she hadn't forgotten how much they ate.

It was the beginning of the first sunrise when Fives returned, banging her door open in greeting. And following him came men, men she knew and recognized and remembered, and men who remembered her if their faces were anything to go by when they saw her.

She ran and leapt, because she wasn't a Jedi any longer, and she could love these men as much and as hard as she wanted, and they caught her and touched her, with their hands and their lips and their minds. They loved her just as fiercely as she loved them, if not more, because she had been the first female for all of them, the first gentle flirt, the first feminine hug.

Kix came in, pulling a last man with him, and Ahsoka choked on a sob at the same time her arms came around him. He seemed dazed, but he returned the hold because it was as ingrained into him as it was into her, this hold of support and friendship and _love_ that they'd shared after many battles.

Kix stepped back, grinning. "Told you I'd get him out one day, commander."

"Oh, Kix." Her voice was filled with tears, but her eyes were filled with sparkling laughter. She lunged at him, too, and he caught her and held her and squeezed her, keeping her off the ground and entirely on him. "Oh, Kix."

The tired medic ran his gentle fingers over her montrals and down her back, as much a doctor's touch as it was a friend's, and she leaned in and kissed him, and his mind glittered with a million stars.

He let her down finally, and she turned back to _him._ He was watching, an odd smile on his lips, confused but accepting, curious but not willing to question, and she pressed herself back against him, and her lips against his.

Their second kiss. Only their second.

But it _burned,_ just like their first, and she saw his promise just as he saw hers. He leaned back slightly, brown eyes bright with smiles, one blonde eyebrow raised in that familiar way that said he wanted answers.

In her peripheral, Fives was settling his brothers, moving amongst them, with a small smile that was the biggest she'd seen since the death of his promise.

Her attention returned to the man in her arms. His expression hadn't changed and she laughed and gave him another kiss. "You promised them, commander. I did, too."

* * *

 _So this is the end. This one is for sure my favorite one hehe  
_

 _Hope you enjoyed this little trip among stars and promises :P_

 _Read, review._

 _Kisses!_


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